


And In The End, It Will Be Okay

by SpaceOut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Teddy Lupin, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, American Author Tries to Write British People, Angst, Baby Teddy Lupin, Curses, Degenerative Curses, Do it, Father-Son Relationship, Imagine Draco Malfoy in Overalls, Kinda, Kinda OCC but guys Harry's been alive for 120 years let him be, Memories, Multi, Post-Order of the Phoenix AU, Regretful Harry, Tags Are Hard, Tears, Teddy Lupin Knows Everything, The Acquisition of Teddy Lupin, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, acceptance of death, so many tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceOut/pseuds/SpaceOut
Summary: He was back in the same spot as he was last time. His body back to the state it was during the prime of his life.He was wearing his favorite pair of shorts and his favorite shirt.Harry looked up. It was him. Draco was on the train, smiling at him from the compartment they had taken up when they were going back after the war for their eighth year.Stepping forward, Harry thought one simple thing:It would, as it seemed, be okay.[Or, in which stories are told, and the dust finally settles.]





	And In The End, It Will Be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> this hasn't been edited by anyone other than me so lmao if u find tragic errors let me know
> 
> also tell me if the formatting is weird i can't tell
> 
> anWAY THIS IS MATT I CRIED WRITING THIS BECAUSE I"M WEAK LMAO

He sometimes found himself in these moments, the moments where he’d just look out, see the endless fields, and wish that they could talk once more in that very spot. The man who had shown him the rolling land, the one lost to the fallout of the War.

Harry rolled a piece of straw between his fingers. It was a muted yellow, jointed, round, but not smooth. Looking up, he saw that same type of straw in the fields. It wasn’t a bright day, in fact, it was covered in clouds, dreary. Peaceful. Draco would have loved it.

 

He stood up slowly, stretching his aching muscles and popping his old joints. As if in a dream, he wandered back to the farmhouse.

 

\--

 _I had to see it one more time, by myself,_ he’d told Teddy, _for him._ He didn’t know what to read of his godson’s expression once he’d said that.

\--

 

 _Aunt Hermione passed away yesterday,_ Teddy had said two days before, _she’s with Uncle Ron now, she’ll be happy._

 

Harry had looked up slowly from his newspaper then tapped his ear, just in case he’d misheard. Teddy repeated. The information did not change.

 

The boy-- a man now, by all means, even an older one, but to Harry’s eyes, always a boy-- shed a tear for his aunt and looked at his godfather, or his dad, by all other means, expecting the older man to fall apart, just as he had when Uncle Ron died three years previous. Harry wished that he could, in many ways, still wanting the pull of youth to say ‘it wasn’t her time’ but, many years had passed, and it was. It was Hermione’s time.

 

\--

“ _Parrain_ ,” Teddy said softly the day after Harry’s adventure into the fields. He was sat at the dining table adjacent to the living room where his godfather was sitting with a flower pot in his hand. On his favorite chair. “You know I’ll have my family over tomorrow, and the next day we will all be going back to Britain.”

 

“I know,” Harry acknowledged, still messing with a spell he had read about to grow Hermione’s favorite flowers quickly. “And you know.”

 

“Yes, yes,” he said quietly, sitting back in the uncomfortable dining chair. “I suppose I do.”

 

Harry glanced at Teddy, then went back to work. He hadn’t long yet.

\--

“Parrain,” Teddy said early the next morning, making breakfast for the two of them muggle-style. He was always quite shabby at the wizarding art of cooking. “Tell me about him again, would you?”

 

Him. Harry thought of the word _him_ , it was a common one, used to talk about a male, and it was singular. How odd it was that in this household, he knew exactly who Teddy wanted to hear about. “Haven’t I told you all the stories by now?”

 

“I’m sure you have, I simply wouldn’t mind listening to them again.” He made his eggs over easy, just like always, just like how Harry taught him, just like Great Aunt Petunia had taught Harry. “You need to.”

 

Harry did.

\--

 

_“You know,” Draco hummed, sitting back against a tree in the park they were at, “I’ve never been to America.”_

 

_Harry made a noise of vague interest as he tried to put his hair into some sort of ponytail, since it was getting everywhere and he hadn’t stopped to get it cut in nearly a year._

 

_“I’ve always heard of people talking about their trips to Las Vegas, New York, or Los Angeles, but I’ve always been fond of the country. I believe I actually get that from my father, an odd twist to a known death eater, hmm? Though, admittedly, I do not think he’d be quite keen on the idea of a farm. If you do this, if we can-- if we can truly defeat you-know-who, I think I’ll move to America and buy a farm.”_

 

_Glancing over to Draco, his...something, he nodded. “Why don’t….Why don’t we go this summer? They can’t catch us in America. Just to scope it out.” Draco snorted. “What? Are you planning to just up and buy a farm at seventeen? In America? Not ever having been there before? Plus, you know wizarding communities are never in the country, you’d need someone who knows muggle culture to go--”_

 

_Draco cut Harry off, “Alright, you nagging hag, we can go. But how in Merlin’s name would we manage that? Every magical transport is being watched by death eaters after-- after Dumbledore’s death. We can’t….they’d not just get to me, they’d get to you and that’s far, far worse.”_

 

_“Sure, magical transport. Did you know my mom left me muggle money for when I turned sixteen? ‘Cause you see, there’s this thing called an airplane--”_

 

_“No.”_

 

_“What do you mean ‘no’?”_

 

_“No means no, Potter.”_

 

_“Do you trust me?”_

 

_Draco paused. “I hate it when you say that. You can’t just use that to get your way every time. I’ve only trusted you for like, four months, only liked you for like, three. It’s a wonder I’m even talking to you.”_

 

_“First of all, that’s a lie and you know it. Ever since that stupid tournament you’ve trusted me, even if you were made to work against me, and well, you might be right about the liking, god only knows I’ve only been able to stand you since Christmas. But, you still didn’t answer my question.”_

 

_Flattening him with a dry and nearly homicidal look, Draco muttered, “Fine. I’ll try your airflain.”_

 

_“Airplane.”_

 

_“Potter.”_

 

_“Shutting up.”_

 

_\--_

 

Harry loved his grandkids and his great-grandkids. And the one great-great-grandkid, he was a little baby named after Ron who everybody called Ronnie. In typical Weasley fashion, the six month old was a redhead and already had little tufts of red hair. For now, at least, as it seems Teddy’s metamorphmagus traits seemed to have carried on to all of his kids and most of his grandkids. (Teddy still wore blue hair like he was fifteen, but most of his kids seem to have a touch of maturity.)

 

He was holding Ronnie in his arms as he looked over the rest of the bunch, who were all talking with their parents/grandparents. Remus Lupin the second and Molly Lupin were the oldest, twins, as luck would have it. Remus had two kids, Arthur and Sirius. Arthur, who was the oldest of the two was Ronnie's dad. Molly had two kids like her twin, Kamala and Aqualina. Draconius “Drey” Lupin was the official middle child, which when Harry first heard the name choice, he giggled for five minutes straight, imaging Draco Malfoy as the middle child. Drey had one kid, a boy named after Harry himself (which the original Harry joked, “ah, of course, good luck with that trouble magnet”). The youngest of the group was one Nymphadora Lupin, who, like her predecessor, chose to go by her nickname, “Augusta” which of course, was short for Augustine, which then, _of course,_ made her full name: Nymphadora Augustine Narcissa Lupin. (Harry did always tell Victorie and Teddy to chose sensible names, but did they listen? No.) Augusta had three kids, Richard, Matthew, and Jason.

 

Augusta was always the sensible one.

 

\-- 

Jason, the youngest of Augusta’s kids, had wandered over not too long later and asked for a story. And Harry, ever the sap, gave in.

 --

_“This is a flying box of death and destruction,” Draco panicked as Harry strapped him in. “We’re going to die. This isn’t even logical. Flying brooms make infinitely more sense than this-- Potter, listen to me! Oh my--”_

 

_Harry sighed and signaled down a stewart. “Can you get him a drink? Like...the strongest thing you have?”_

 

_“Is he even legal, sir?” The man asked, pouring a drink anyhow._

 

_“Just turned eighteen last month, where in which we found out he was a sleepy drunk. Which will make this flight easier for everyone on board.” Harry replied before he was passed the drink. “Thank you.”_

 

_He turned to his (officially now, because evidently they rush into literally everything) boyfriend and shoved the drink of what smelled to be tequila into his hands. “Drink, right now.”_

 

 _Draco shot Harry a dirty look but took the glass and swung it back just to down it like a shot._  

\-- 

“You have five years until you can drink, and if or when you do, always remember one thing: while Draco may not be related to you by blood, the rest of our family has one thing in common with him-- ya’ll lightweights.” 

\--

_“We’re in Kansas,” Harry said brightly while Draco groaned, still having a hangover from the day previous. “I know next to nothing about this place.”_

 

_“I thought it was muggle,” Draco glared, betrayed._

 

_“It is. But, do you know anything about Middle-Eastern wizards?”_

 

_“I know you.”_

 

_“I don’t count.”_

 

_“...No.”_

 

_Harry shrugged. “Let’s pick a town and scope out the area. Do you want to be near a big town or have a decent drive to pick up an actual drinka scotch?”_

 

_“Don’t mention alcohol to me ever again you snivelling littl-” Draco didn’t finish as a woman hit him over the head with a newspaper._

 

_She was a thin hispanic woman with a look of annoyance on her face. “Don’t be mean to your husband.”_

 

_And then she was off._

 

_Draco looked at Harry suspiciously. “Why’d she say husband?”_

 

_“I have no idea.”_

 

_“You’re useless.”_

 

_“You should tell that to Voldemort.”_

 

_Draco gave him a sort of worried sort of scared sort of annoyed look._

 

 _“Fine, sorry. Let’s find a cabbie.”_  

 _\--_  

“Is that how you ended up here?” Jason asked with wide eyes. “Cause that’d be a properly strange way of doing things.”

 

“Well, it took us about two weeks until Draco was satisfied with the plot of land and house. It was a good thing that we knew how to transfer wizarding money into American money, because if not, my mother’s cash would not have covered this place. It cost nearly two million dollars in the end. I can’t do the to pounds math in my head, but you’ve visited often enough to know that’s an awful lot.”

 

“Wow, did great-grandfather Draco have taste like grama Victorie?”

 

“You mean they like things that cost a lot of money? Absolutely.”

\--

Eventually, Jason got hungry and bored and went to go talk to his cousins, leaving a sleeping Ronnie and Harry back to themselves. Harry was now about 120, old, even for a wizard, but not near the oldest. It was like being a muggle in their early 80s. He knew a lot of things that many of these kids would never know, would never experience. But one of the things he knew, that sometimes he wish he didn’t, was that they’d face their own brand of hardship. He hoped that it wasn’t a war.

 

Wars were the worst. He’d been both in a wizarding war and in a muggle one, they left scars that never faded.

 

“Ronnie,” Harry whispered to the sleeping baby, “when you grow up you must do me one favor. Don’t start trouble for the wrong reasons. You’ll know. Your dad is a spitfire, just like the rest of this family, they’ll steer you right. Listen to them.” 

\--

 

Hours passed, the family almost all went to sleep for the night, Ronnie was with his father, and Harry was back to sitting with Teddy in the living room.

 

“Did he teach you French?”

Teddy already knew the answer, that, Harry was sure, but he had a feeling his kid just wanted to get the clearest image he could get of his other dad before his first hand source would be no more.

 

“More like he yelled at me in French until it stuck in my head. He had made me promised, just before he died, that I’d continue to teach you. After all, you’re his cousin along with his kid. It’s a Malfoy-Black tradition, evidently. Sirius hated, and I mean hated, French. But he knew it.”

 

They were silent for a little bit, then Teddy spoke again. “You were telling Jason about this house, it’s been quite some time since I’d heard that story. Mind finishing it?”

 

Harry looked over at Teddy, long and understanding. “Of course, now, where was I…?”

 

\--

 

_“This is it,” Draco declared, rubbing his hands together. “This will be it. This is where we will be.”_

 

_“We?” Harry almost smacked himself when he asked. They were boyfriends of what, a month? Going on a trip this long was stupid enough as it was for a new relationship that was literally pulled out of a five year long rivalry. And he asked Draco about the “we” in his dream home declaration? Smart Potter, oh-so-clever. Maybe Hermione was right, he was just a sack of flour with a target painted on it._

 

_“Of course we, if I live through this, you surely will. And if you think for one moment you’re getting away from me to run off with that Weasley girl, think again.”_

 

_And that was that. The tour guide led them through the house, and with each new room, Draco’s eyes lit up._

 

_Harry found “we” a more and more likeable word._

 

_\--_

 

Harry finished the story only to find that one of the grandkids had arrived in the doorway, Drey, as it seemed. “Would you like to hear of your namesake as well?”

 

“Well, as I can hardly understand a thing of granda’s American accent, thought I might as well ‘ear it from a good and well British voice.” Drey said in a moment of pure and utter Draco-ness.

 

Harry snorted, “Alright then, Draconius, take a seat.”

 

“Don’t call me that!”

 

“You know, you’re just like him.” He closed his eyes for a moment to get a clear image of the man who was. Opening his eyes, Harry nodded. “Look like him too. I think if he had red hair instead of pale blond, you two could be twins. God only knows how.”

 

“May I?” Drey asked, despite being nearing 50. (Which threw Harry for a bit of a loop, how old was Teddy then? If his middle kid was not far out from being fifty? And on top of that, having had kid well into his middle age?)

 

Harry nodded, watching Drey think for a moment before his hair turned into a slick pale blonde. “I always did wonder what he’d look like when he got older.”

 

“How old was he when he passed?”

 

“He had just turned thirty, two days prior,” Harry said, then for a moment remembered the pain of his death, rather than the pleasant memories of him. It still aches like a hole in his heart, he thought suddenly, even after all these years. There was a reason he never remarried. “He had mellowed out a lot by then, but was still stubborn as a mule. He was extremely weak due to his illness, yet every day at the break of dawn, he’d bring a cane and have me walk with him around the fields, it got to the point where I’d bring him around in a wheelchair. Sometimes, when Teddy here would wake up early enough, he’d walk with us too. He was….Oh, ten? In theory, the curse that was withering him away, a product of a war long past, was supposed to make him slowly but surely be unable to talk. That theory was wrong. He was a chatterbox up till his last moments.”

 

He shook his head, “I’m sure you guys don’t want to hear about that.”

 

Drey looked at his dad, who in turned shrugged, then Drey looked at his grandfather. “If you want to talk about it-- if you need to, we’ll listen.”

 

Harry’s heart broke. His family was made of better stuff than he was. “I might take you up on that.”

 

“Go ahead, Parrain,” Teddy insisted.

 

\--

 

_“Draconius Lucius Malfoy-Potter,” Harry practically swore as he pointed his spoon at his husband. “You are thirty years old today, eat the stupid pudding.”_

 

_“I cannot even stand up anymore, Harry, I don’t care about the bloody pudding. I just want to sit and wait for Teddy to get out of school. Or better yet go and get him from school,” Draco argued back, crossing his arms with a bit of difficulty._

 

_“Today he’s getting his awards for being at the top of his class, he’s making a speech about you that his best friend is filming so you can see it,” Harry said, near desperate. “You and I both know this timeline, and-- and dammit, I won’t fucking watch you wither away before that. You need the calories and today is going to be one of the last days you and I will be alone. I-- Draco, love of my life you can’t do that to me.” His voice broke, he looked down at his own piece of Draco’s birthday cake. “Please just eat the fucking pudding.”_

 

_There was a moment of silence, where Harry wiped his eyes and refound his breath, and then there was the creak of Draco’s wheelchair as Draco leaned forward to pick up the spoon. Harry looked up to see his husband’s hand shaking, but he was eating the cake anway._

_“Thank you.”_

 

_\--_

 

Harry took a shuddering breath after telling that part of the story, he knew what Draco was feeling. The inability to move, the pain of everything inside working against itself. Having known what Draco went through is the only reason Harry knew that his time was soon.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed.

 

Another moment.

 

He began the worst part.

 

\--

 

_“Teddy,” Draco called out as loud as he could to the ten year old. “Come here, I need to tell you something.”_

 

_The ten year old walked over nervously, glancing at his godfather, who looked just about as nervous as him. Which did not seem to help his nerves. Still, Teddy kneeled down beside the wheelchair._

 

 _Draco smiled at Teddy with that soft paternal look that Harry felt so privileged to see and slowly offered his hand for Teddy to hold, which the boy took and held onto like a lifeline. (Harry thought, in a moment of sheer hysteria, maybe it_ was _for his husband.) “Teddy, do you remember what godfather is in French?”_

 

 _“P_ _arrain,” Teddy answered quietly._

 

_“Do you remember what dad is?”_

 

_“Papa.”_

 

_“Do you remember love?”_

 

_“Amour.”_

 

_“Health?”_

 

_“Santé.”_

 

_“Happiness?”_

 

_“Bonheur.”_

 

_“Acceptance?”_

 

_“Acceptation.”_

  


_“Good. Now, Teddy, I need you to remember those words. If nothing else, you must remember those. Those are the most important words in any language. Especially in this home. My lack of acceptance of a long, long time ago will be the cause of my death, and I don’t want that to happen to you. You’re a brilliant young man, and I won’t-- I won’t be able to see you go to Hogwarts next year,” Draco said shakily as tears started to gather in his eyes. “But no matter what happens, what house you’re in, who you’re friends with, we will always love you, even if we are not with you. Okay? I need you to say okay.”_

 

_Teddy was crying, sobs still loud even as he tried to muffle them. “O--Okay. Okay, papa, okay, okay.” He leaned forward to press his forehead onto Draco’s shoulder as he cried._

 

_Only then did Harry realize that was Draco saying goodbye to his cousin, or really, his son. And Harry was crying nearly as much as Teddy, though much quieter due to experience. A hand was over his mouth, tears were streaming down his face, and slowly but surely, he was watching his husband wither away._

 

_Draco spoke again. “I love you, Teddy. Could-- could you get me some water?” He was sending Teddy down the stairs and across the hall to the kitchen._

 

_Something didn’t settle right._

 

_Teddy nodded before standing, placing a kiss on Draco’s forehead, and walking away, still shaking. Once they heard the door close, Draco said the dreaded words: “Harry, come closer, you can’t just cry in the corner. Face me.”_

 

_He said it like a challenge, and in many ways, Harry supposed, it was._

 

_He moved over to where he son was just moments before, gripping his husband’s hand with both of his._

 

_“Husband, do you love me?” Draco asked in rehearsed words._

 

_“I do. Do you love me?”_

 

_“I do. Will you move on?” Harry shook his head, he didn’t know, he didn’t want to think of the possibility. “Speak to me.”_

 

_“I don’t know, I don’t, I don’t want to think about losing you anymore. I just want to be here, I just want to be with you. Draco, please, don’t, don’t do-- don’t go. You can’t go. How will Teddy and I live here without you?”_

 

_“You’ll find a way. You always do, Potter,” Draco said with a half smile. It was sad, oh it was so sad and it was full of pain and Harry didn’t know if it was the pain of his body doing itself in, or if it was the pain of seeing his family break down in front of him. “I love you. What I told Teddy applies to you as well, I will always love you, no matter what you do. You are the sun, Harry Potter, you are my sun. And I’m dying.”_

 

_Suddenly it felt all too real, it wasn’t just a future event. He was dying, he was dying in the very house he had bought when he and Harry had stumbled back from England, riddled with PTSD, scars, and the feeling of being completely lost._

 

_“And I’m dying with you,” Harry whispered. “I will be alone with a son to raise.”_

 

_“And you will be the best father you can be, you will go to his games, you will send him a letter every week even though we’ve figured out phones because it’s tradition,” Draco’s tears began to fall once more. “You’ll carry on. You always have.”_

 

_Harry looked up at his husband, looking him in the eyes, begging him to say anything to fix this. Begging Hermione to call and say she found the cure. Begging Minerva McGonagall’s owl to finally come in and say a simple spell will fix it all._

 

_Nothing came._

 

_“I want to be outside,” Draco said suddenly. “Will you take me outside?”_

 

_Harry nodded, fearfully letting go of Draco’s hand in case something happened in the single moment he paused before picking up Draco from the wheelchair and holding him bridal style. He walked downstairs calmly as he could, pausing only to instruct Teddy to follow him, and went out the door. He walked all the way out to the wheatfields before finally setting Draco down in a chair that they kept out here when Draco was still able to walk._

 

_Everyone was silent, unsure of what would happen next._

 

_Draco, as per usual, was the first to speak minutes later. “I’m terrified.”_

 

_Harry kneeled beside him once again, taking his hand, “We’re right here.” He didn’t say ‘don’t be scared.’ He’s died once before, he was scared. “You’ll see something familiar. You’ll see someone to bring you across, you’ll know them. It will be okay.”_

 

_It wouldn’t be okay._

 

_Draco closed his eyes._

 

_It would never be okay._

 

_\--_

 

Harry didn’t know when he stopped speaking, but he knew by then he had gained a bigger audience. Two more grandkids, the Arthur and Augusta, a great-grandkid, Harry. He felt like some weight he had been holding had fallen off of him. He had tears on his face, but he wiped them away and smiled.

 

“It’s too late for you kids to be awake. My story is finished, go back to bed.”

 

Drey had his whole face covered, and what that boy was thinking, Harry would never know, but a moment later, he was the first to leave, only pausing to leave a kiss on Harry Sr’s forehead. His son trailing behind him. He wondered what Drey’s husband would think when the two came back in tears.

 

He has to stop telling such sad stories.

 

The last two grandchildren did the same as their brother before going to bed.

 

That left Teddy, who remembered that day, clear as anything else, he suspected. “You want something happy.” Harry predicted. “You want something new.”

 

“I miss him.”

 

“As do I,” Harry rubbed his chin. “I don’t know what I haven’t told you.”

 

“You’ve never told me how you two ended up with me.”

 

“Have I never? Well, it’s quite the adventure.”

 

\--

 

_“Harry, you’ve lost it, you’re bonkers. You’re ridden with grief and can’t think clearly,” Draco tried to say rationally, but the image was completely broken by the hysteria in his voice. “We can’t take care of a baby! Look, I’m sorry that my aunt died and your-- your Lupins died in a nasty uprising of sympathisers, but this, this we cannot handle. We can barely take care of ourselves and the farm right now. You’d-- you’d have to be like, a real dad. I’d have to be a real dad! We still don’t know how to counteract that curse! You’d be a single parent! You-- you’ve lost it. Hermione, hasn’t he lost it?”_

 

_Hermione stood silent, leaning against Ron._

 

_“Oh, you two are bloody useless.” Draco turned back to his fiance. “He’d be raised in America!”_

 

_Harry was simply looking down at the baby in his arms. He had bright blue hair an hour ago, twenty minutes ago it was dark brown hair going everywhere, and then right as Draco started to speak, it was a pale blonde. He was sleeping but he still knew that Malfoy shrill anywhere, as it seemed._

_“Draco, love, hold your cousin.”_

 

_Draco’s face was red. “H-hold my cousin? I can’t-- you-- you’re-- you prick, hand him over.” He angrily opened his arms for Theodore to be deposited in his arms, which Harry did gently. “Oh Merlin, oh no, he’s like his mother, isn’t he? And he could turn into anything, into anybody and we could lose him, we could mix up our baby with another baby. He’d be a menace just like you, and have that scowl of Remus and the glare of Nymphadora, and he’d have my temper and oh no Potter you complete and utter menace we cannot keep this baby.”_

 

_Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, then they both looked at Harry, who nodded. “Draco?”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“You just called him our baby.”_

 

_Draco’s face suddenly wasn’t just red, it was on fire, burning. “No, I didn’t.”_

 

_“You totally did,” Ron said, helpfully. (Draco would later say, no, absolutely not helpfully.)_

 

_“I knew I hated you for a good reason, you ginger menace,” he said without heat, holding Theodore tighter to his chest. “I bet you call Theodore Teddy.”_

 

_“That’s what Remus and Tonks called him.”_

 

_“Dammit now I have to call him Teddy.”_

 

_Harry watched with growing happiness as Draco bonded with his godson. “Plus, of course, they named me his godfather.”_

 

_Draco made a noise of annoyance from his throat. “Fine! Fine, you know what? Fine. We’ll keep the baby! This-- ugh, I’m never doing a diaper, ever. Harry, that’s 100% you.”_

 

_Harry beamed at his fiance, “Sounds good.”_

 

_“I get to design the nursery.”_

 

_“Sounds good.”_

 

_“You have to do all of the paperwork to get him to be an American citizen.”_

 

_“Sounds good.”_

 

_“I hate you.”_

 

_“No, you don’t,” Harry, Ron, and Hermione chorused._

 

_Draco pouted and rocked Teddy gently._

 

_\--_

 

“Thank you,” Teddy said with a smile on his face, wide and warm. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

 

“I can get to bed perfectly well by myself,” Harry complained goodnaturedly.

 

“Well, then do it for my sake.”

 

Once Harry was sitting in bed, Teddy finally said what he’d been planning to say since the news of Hermione came in. “You can go now, dad, if that’s what you need. We’ll carry on.” The boy swallowed rough. “Thank you, for everything.”

 

“It was my pleasure, son.” Harry smiled as he leaned back. The lights went out. The door closed. It had been too long. He was ready to see him again, he was ready to see all of them again.

 

\--

 

He was back in the same spot as he was last time. His body back to the state it was during the prime of his life.

 

He was wearing his favorite pair of shorts and his favorite shirt.

 

Harry looked up. It was him. Draco was on the train, smiling at him from the compartment they had taken up when they were going back after the war for their eighth year.

 

Stepping forward, Harry thought one simple thing:

 

_It would, as it seemed, be okay._

 

**Author's Note:**

> u r absolutely right. i killed everone


End file.
